


Heir to Alderaan

by JakkuCrew (fromstars)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alderaan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gray Jedi, M/M, New Alderaan, Prince Ben Organa, Relationship(s), Romance, Royalty, The Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromstars/pseuds/JakkuCrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Alderaan was destroyed. Its people survive.</i><br/> </p><p>After an attack on his mind and the new Jedi Order, a young Ben Solo takes sanctuary in the one place that is his rightful home: New Alderaan. There, he has become Prince Ben Organa, secluded from the wars between good and evil, light and dark, but mired in the affairs of rebuilding a once great world. Secluded, that is, until Poe Dameron arrives and places the fate of the galaxy in the Prince's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Though Alderaan had been destroyed, its people had not. From across the reaches of the galaxy, the people of Alderaan had reached out to one another - and desperately held on to the vestiges of their culture and community. New Alderaan rooted itself quickly, like a tenacious shrub ready to weather the adversities before them. And while their princess had stepped aside to continue leading her Rebellion, it was impossible to deny the presence of the House of Organa. Leia’s successor had been Evaan Verlaine — one of the last remaining Alderaanian citizens that had been traditionally tutored at the feet of Queen Breha Organa.

A tradition that Prince Ben Organa tried to maintain, despite the way it stretched his patience thin.

Ben was seated on the dais at the front of the solarium, where his students had gathered on the steps across from him. Beneath the windows, the silver embroidery of his slate blue robes shimmered, and light illuminated sleeves like crests of sea foam breaking against the shore. His rich blue cloak kissed the dais, its translucent color mapping delicately painted star systems across his shoulders. The warmth of the sunlight swept across his high cheekbones, and sunk into the pearls that trimmed his equally high collar.

Ben rubbed at his temples, silently cursing the traditional elaborate braids that crowned his head. He was grateful the braids tended to minimize the distracting angle of his ears, and Ben would even admit to appreciating the way the rest of his hair had been pinned like a bouquet of delicate Alderaanian roses — but that never seemed to reduce the headache it would eventually cause.

At least, Ben reminded himself, he had no reason to balance for hours in heels. Evaan had once insisted he try — just to experience the pain of the fully traditional Royal attire. Ben had threatened to burn the shoes by the end of that evening. Even without heeled shoes, he still towered over his students - and most people.

The real trial was not having a regal presence — it was maintaining a regal countenance, even when frustration furrowed his brow. Or when his pupils began to look bored.

“Pay attention,” Ben commanded, tapping the holopad laid out before his pupils. “The Houses of Alderaan have ruled our society for several millennia. It would be worth your time to bother to learn them,” he said, fingers moving to project the first house crest above the holopad.

It did not escape him when one of the older boys slumped petulantly.

“Rune,” Ben said, “Which house is this?”

The teenager gave him a sour look, before he stretched and wrinkled his nose in thought. “House…House Thul. Wealth from Virtue. Because they’re entrepreneurs.”

Ben gave a curt nod. “At times, that designation seems ironic in the House of Thul’s long and…complex history. But their business has also meant their survival. Bornaryn Trading survives today, and continues as one of the oldest established lineages of Alderaan.” He didn’t dare lecture on some three thousand years of Thul history — Ben knew he was struggling with his students on the basics. They’d get nowhere if he asked them to memorize a time so long ago when the Noble House had been backed by the Sith, or even before that, their temporary exile.

Two thousand years ago, the house of Thul had tried to tear Alderaan apart in a civil war with the house of Organa. Today, they needed each other more than ever — as artifacts of a past home world Ben himself had never known.

“Next,” Ben prompted. “Ardana, which house is this?”

A petite brunette girl peered up at the holo, her dark skin glowing under the cast of the blue light. “House Panteer. ‘Blood Bears Fealty’. The House of Panteer has produced the most Kings and Queens of Alderaan - so they pride themselves on lineage and regal airs. I— I don’t think very many are left.”

“No,” Ben said somberly. “Some of the principal families of the House Panteer did not survive. But being as old, and large as they were, you will still find a representative estate here in New Alderaan,” he explained, swiping to the next image.

“And your own house, Ardana?” Ben prompted.

“Alde, your highness," she said softly. “Our words are ‘Wisdom lights the stars’.”

“Excellent,” he said softly, fixing his gaze on the sigil that was projected into the air. “The oldest house of Alderaan - from where our home planet once derived its name.”

Ben paused, letting the weight of his words sink into the cobblestone and marble floors of the solarium. He had never been terribly patient, but teaching required both weight and wait — conscious gaps in his lecture to allow the students to absorb the information before them.

As the moment passed, Ardana sighed softly, creasing her brow.

Ben tilted his head. “Speak, Ardana.”

“Apologies, your highness, it’s just…” she bit her lip, tugging on the pearl grey pupil’s robes she wore. “I don’t think I should count.”

“Explain.”

“To carry the name of Alde… my parents were only ever minor members of the household. We’re already from third and fourth children…” she said, running a flat palm over her braids uneasily.

The other students gathered before Ben craned to scrutinize Ardana’s expression. It wasn’t an easy statement to make - those who had survived the destruction of Alderaan often questioned their own legitimacy as much they had questioned the legitimacy of Alderaanians who had left their planet long before it had been destroyed.

“We are not a people of blood alone,” Ben said carefully. “Remember that, all of you. It is more than blood. It is our culture, our memory, our loss…and our resilience.” His features softened as he looked down at his pupil. It was hard to instill a sense of belonging, Ben knew, but this was what remained of the fractured world his mother had left behind.

“You are as legitimate as any of us. Do not forget that. This is your House, no matter how you came by it.” Ben said.

“But isn’t she…right? I mean why keep these house names?” another boy asked. Ben turned, catching the gaze of the boy - Melor - who had confident and boyish charm about him. Ben raised a brow, watching as the mood of the room subtly shifted to tension and curiosity as they waited for him to react. Ardana shot Melor a brief look - somewhere between warning and surprised. Melor glanced back, his green eyes studying her.

“Please,” Ben said, turning up his open palm. “Elaborate.”

“I just mean…” Melor began slowly, sitting up straighter, “That with Alderaan gone, none of us know what it was like. Why keep the old houses? Learn about them, sure, but what does it matter that she’s from Alde, and I’m from the house of Ulgo?”

Ben dropped his palm to his side, his ruffled silk sleeve cascading back over his hand. Not wanting his expression to betray him, he turned away from his students, striding to the other side of the room.

“Melor,” he said carefully, “Tell me, where is the Empire today?”

“What?”

“Today, where is the Empire?” Ben repeated. “Where is the Emperor? The Sith? The Death Star which destroyed Alderaan?”

It wasn’t Melor who answered.

“They’re gone,” another student — Nikana Antilles - said. “The Empire was dismantled, and its remnants driven to the far reaches of the galaxy. The Death Star was destroyed, and the Sith died out.”

“And yet,” Ben said, still not looking back at the students gathered on the steps. “We are still standing. They are gone, and we are here.”

“—Let’s keep it that way,” a voice rang out, and Ben paused, the familiarity of it catching him off guard. He turned and looked back at the archway of the Solarium, where a man stood with a familiar, small, spherical droid by his side. Without hesitating, BB-8 trilled a greeting in Binary, and Ben almost smiled.

“Dameron,” Ben said, all but forgetting the students who were now gawking at the new arrival. “I should have known when I saw you again, you would still be inclined to interrupting me.” He tipped his head, filing away the realization that Poe’s uniform was no longer Republic issue. A fact which begged more than a few questions.

But then again, it had been years since Ben had last seen Poe. Perhaps he had simply become so good at isolation that he’d failed to realize an update in formal pilot uniforms.

“Apologies, your Highness,” Poe said with a half-smile and brief bow. “But I come with a message that is of the utmost importance. If we could speak in private—,” he glanced over at Ben’s students.

“This is as good a place to end as any,” Ben said, fixing his gaze back on his students. “Prepare your House reports for next session, and be ready to discuss your House’s role in the settling of New Alderaan,” he said, before adding, “Class is dismissed.”

Ben waited silently as his students gathered their things, shoving data pads into their bags. In moments like these, he found it hard to filter out their chatter - not just the casual conversation they carried on, but the swelling of thoughts and emotions that broiled over in teenaged minds. Without having the force themselves, they had no idea how volatile they seemed — how loud, emotional, even jarring — they could all be. Adults, even non-force users, tended to have a smidgen more control, but even they could drive Ben to migraines.

When the last student slipped out, Ben exhaled gratefully. The silence was only disrupted by the urgency which radiated off of Poe, and he looked over at the other man.

It had been…too long since Ben had last seen Poe, although time had been kind to the pilot. He hadn’t grown any taller, but he was just as striking, just as devastatingly handsome as he had been before. This time, however, Poe bore a few faded scars, and the edges of his hairline were kissed with strands of grey. Ben imagined that Poe had probably found someone, a partner that would have gently teased him about the silvery lines of stress that raked through his otherwise rich brown hair. Ben wondered if Poe would simply break it to him, or if he’d have to corner the droid to inquire after Poe’s wellbeing.

But then again, maybe it was no longer his right to ask.

Ben watched as Poe carefully moved down the steps of the Solarium. “…What could the Republic want with me that they couldn’t have asked of Queen Verlaine?”

“It’s been a long time,” Poe said quietly. “But I’m not here on behalf of the Republic.”

Poe extended a hand, offering it up to Ben. He then he took Ben’s larger hand into his own, before raising it up to brush a soft kiss over Ben’s knuckles that felt at once both too intimate and too cold. It had been too long for anything else, Ben supposed, trying to push back the ache that welled in his chest.

“I’m not here for the Republic,” Poe said. “I’m here because you can do something no one else in this galaxy can.” Poe didn’t release Ben’s hand, but instead ran his thumb over the back of Ben’s palm. Then he peered up through his lashes, voice thick — “Help me, Ben Organa. You’re my only hope.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

In the privacy of his personal apartments, Ben began to carefully unpin the flowers that had been molded from his hair. He didn't dare look at Poe while he did so, finding himself feeling uncomfortably exposed by the small act of taking his hair down. Before, Poe had seen his hair in any number of styles - straight down, knotted up, or Padawan braided. Now, Ben had become so used to the customs of New Alderaan that he almost felt as if he was changing clothes in public. He had already removed his outer-most robe and cloak, remaining only in the lighter layers of his tunic and pants.

No matter. He set another pin down on dish placed atop a side table, and kept his gaze fixed on the floor as he reached up behind his head and unwound a flower. When the long strand of dark brown hair pooled into his palm, he slowly combed it out with his fingers.

Then, Ben steeled himself. "What does my mother want?"

"Your mother?" Poe echoed carefully. Ben turned, looking over his shoulder. He raised a brow.

"I'm not as easily flattered as you might think," Ben lied, then swallowed. "...Your travel to New Alderaan isn't for personal reasons. You, of all people, have a very good reason to never want to see me again. And our relationship never would have tipped the fate of the galaxy one way or another," he said, unpinning a second flower. The pin clattered to the dish when he dropped it. "-Which leaves my mother's designs."

"Is that why you hide away here?" Poe asked, walking around Ben's side to confront him more directly. He placed his palms on the edge of Ben's end table, and leaned in. "You left behind everyone and everything to live on New Alderaan because you think people don't want to see you?"

Ben fought back a wince.

"This is my home," he said, "My people. I'm here because I need to be."

Poe frowned. "You're here to avoid the Galaxy. Your mother, me, the entire Galactic Republic, the Jedi--,"

"I am here because this world needs me," Ben snapped, his hands trembling as he brought down the last of the flowers that had been woven from his hair. "Because New Alderaan sees me as who I am, not who I should be, or - or who they fear." He was so much like him. Too much Vader. Like his mother. Like Luke. His powers in the Force were too strong, too easy to corrupt. ...Worst of all, Ben had seen what he was capable of when the fear and betrayal of his true bloodline had confronted him.

It hadn't been pretty.

"And the person you are," Poe said softly, "Is someone who had to leave. I know. I accepted that." Poe met Ben's gaze, and he sighed, before leaning back from the end table.

"The person I am," Ben said carefully, "-didn't want to leave you. But I had to leave. The Galaxy sees me as Vader's progeny, a deadly weapon to be vied for and used -- recruited to their designs and manipulated like a holochess piece," Ben began working through the larger, crown braid of his hair, unwinding it from his forehead, looping the rope around his shoulders as he worked.

It occurred to him that Poe's look of surprise was directed at the length of his hair as much as it was his words. Ben hadn't cut his hair in years, and now, when it was free, it swung down his back, tickling his waist.

"-From the moment Senator Casterfo exposed my mother in the Senate, people saw me as that monster's heir. Saw me as their ticket for power and dominance," Ben laughed bitterly. "-And Luke! Dear uncle Luke said that Darth Vader had redeemed himself. Died as Anakin Skywalker, and that I...I should be proud. How could I be proud of the horror our blood brought this Galaxy?"

Poe's eyes widened, but he said nothing.

Ben continued, anger building in his stomach, still buried deep within. He began to unravel his last braid, combing out his hair as he worked. "I am the grandson of Bail and Breha Organa. The prince of the Alderaanian people, and safeguard to our culture. Not Darth Vader's progeny. Not a tool. Not a traitor, or a liar when my mother was the only one who had ever lied," he breathed in, "-and not a Jedi. I left and I expected you to never want to hear of me again." His hair pooled in his hands, and slipped over his broad shoulders.

"That's unfair," Poe protested, before Ben cut him off.

"Not fair is being asked to shoulder the legacy of a mass-murderer! Not fair is finding out that every voice I heard in the night as a child was real, and was begging for me to join them in the darkness. Not fair is struggling alone, not knowing why my parents were afraid of me, because I terrified them-- not fair is having to leave everything before I destroyed it."

"You wouldn't have," Poe insisted, furrowing his brows. "Ben, you are better than that, you never would have hurt anyone--,"

"I almost slaughtered the entire temple!" He snapped, suddenly feeling dizzy from the pressure building behind his forehead. "I didn't know how to fend them off, Poe, I couldn't stop them from using me, using my own mind, and I almost killed everyone. People still died that night because of me. You could have been among them."

"It wasn't your fault," Poe said, but Ben shook his head. He had left himself open and vulnerable to fear, anger, rage -- and had almost murdered every last one of his Uncle's pupils. Just like his grandfather had slaughtered the Jedi on Coruscant - younglings included.

"I left to protect you," Ben whispered. "I could have hurt you."

The very thought made bile rise in his throat.

"Ben," Poe looked dangerously close to stepping closer to him, offering a comforting hand. Instead, he hesitated. Ben wasn't sure if that made him relieved.

"--You aren't here for personal reasons," Ben repeated, feeling the words form around him as a safeguard. "And you said you aren't here on behalf of the Republic - a request I could easily deny, by the way. New Alderaan deals with the Republic sparingly whenever we can help it. There is a reason why my mother's Senatorship was based in the Hosnian system." Among them, Evaan Verlaine's cautious foresight, and his own mother's disregard for her own birthright.

"Please," Poe said, biting his lip. "Ben, listen to me. This is about more than your mother."

"But she sent you here," Ben asserted, quickly and easily lifting the feeling of confirmation from the surface of Poe's mind. Although he had turned away from the training of the Jedi, Ben knew he could no more ignore his powers in the Force than he could deny gravity. And Poe - someone so desperately familiar to him that it ached to see him again - was all too easy to read without trying.

"She asked me to take the mission," Poe countered quietly. "I accepted for my own reasons. I meant what I said. Things are...much worse than when you left them, and without you, I don't think we stand a chance."

Ben turned away from Poe's searching gaze. "Ask the Jedi for help, whatever it is."

"The Jedi are..." Poe hesitated, then looked down at the hardwood floor of Ben's living quarters. "It's not good. It's beyond bad. Some of them have been found dead, others...vanished..." Poe swallowed, uneasiness settling into his countenance.

"The Jedi are Luke's concern," Ben said, stepping away from Poe to reach for a small ceramic jar tucked onto one of his many shelves. With his hair down, it was better to start sooner, rather than later, with conditioning it. It wasn't that he was so cold hearted that he didn't feel a spike of worry and concern when Poe told him that his once-companions were being found dead. It was simply that routine kept him calm, calm kept him disciplined, and discipline kept him from being dangerous. "I can't help like Luke can," Ben said honestly, "And most of them are probably terrified of me. Why hasn't Luke alerted the Republic? If padawans or potential force-users are going missing, or being hunted--," Ben's stomach turned. Then perhaps he hadn't been the only one who had been preyed upon.

"-Luke is missing." Poe said, and Ben dimly registered the sound of the jar in his hands shattering across the floor.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Alderaanian House of Antilles bears no relation to Wedge Antilles (of Corellia). Just to clarify.


End file.
